eternalnoob.net

Oh hey…There’s a blog here. Totally forgot. Huh. Well I guess I should write in it? What else do you do with a blog? This feels kind of awkward, like hanging out with a friend after reconnecting on facebook only to remember why you ignored them in the first place…Hehehe…Anyway, what’s up, ether? You’re not gonna reply so I don’t really know why I’m writing. I guess this is really a place for one-way communication, eh?

So I’ll just write about me. Turkey Day was delicious, I literally did not move yesterday, and I have Sunday and Monday off yay. I think later I’ll write a story or something and post it up here. Or a poem. I just started one, it goes like this:

I’m in Hell
Counting seconds
One more flies by
And I’m out the door
Foot to the floor
I’m finally free
I could go anywhere
I would go anywhere
But there’s nowhere to go
I’m writing anarchist sentiments on my wall
I write about arson in my personal diaries
I don’t bathe and I sneer at strangers
I listen to Rage and dream of fighting
I fall asleep watching downloaded TV on my computer
My two hundred dollar phone wakes me up in the morning
Hi ho, hi ho I’m off to sell my soul
I put on a smile because the customers come first
This is my eulogy.

-Braxtron

I just wrote this.

Elyssa didn’t know how to sleep. Elyssa didn’t know how to do a lot of things. Every night, lying in bed, left to her own wandering mind she would grow sick of herself and the places her train of thought took her. She didn’t know how to choose her thoughts and so her thoughts chose her. When she couldn’t take it any longer she would stop breathing. She would stop breathing until she passed out and her body no longer knew how to retain consciousness. She would wake up four hours later to the same mind-numbing thought ramblings she was trying to escape. She would stop breathing once more. The next time she would wake up she would step out of her bed, her nightgown, and into a tight pair of Daisy Dukes. The same pair of Daisy Dukes she stepped into every day. Because Elyssa didn’t know how to step into anything else. This is not about the Daisy Dukes. The Daisy Dukes are just a “quirk,” something silly that a person subscribes to. Some people have to put their right shoe on before their left. Always. Some people don’t know how to turn left. Some people don’t know which gender they are attracted to or even are. These are minor psychological disorders that are (usually) easily forgiven and over-looked. But behind each of these compulsions, ticks, habits, obsessions there is something deeper. This is about those eight hours of each night when Elyssa is not awake.
Neither is she asleep.
Neither is she Elyssa.